My Name is Luca
by TempestDarius
Summary: Just how much abuse can one boy take?
1. Default Chapter

Title: My name is Luca.  
  
Summery: Just how much abuse can one boy take?  
  
A/N This story takes place before Craig comes on the show until the end of season two. I'm not sure if I'm going to kill Craig's father off because I kind of like that story dynamic.  
  
Rated PG-13ish for violence and language.  
  
Disclaimer: Degrassi and characters not mine yadda, yadda, yadda....  
  
Craig Manning looked unseeingly down at the closed suitcase lying on top of the stripped mattress. He was dimly aware of the sounds around him, the young male laughter, the sounds of car horns and calls of goodbye but his main thoughts were strictly on the luggage in front of him.  
  
It was new. Part of a going away present from his father, for his fun filled adventures at the boys summer camp. It was strange now how he had loathed the idea of coming here. When he had first seen the suitcase with its strong smell of imported leather, the shiny gold latches winking in the fading afternoon sunlight he had instantly protested going. Now the idea of leaving the camp was what filled him with dread; the feeling that filled his stomach with knots and made his forehead and palms break out into a cold sweat. Soon his dad would be pulling up and taking him away from the laughter, the lazy filled afternoon hikes, the thrill of competing for the finals in the field games. His father would be pulling him back down into the quiet. Into the strained silence filled with darkness and tension.  
  
He swallowed back a cry of alarm when a hand suddenly tapped him on the back of the shoulder. Frantically he spun around, his hands instantly coming up in a defensive gesture, only to find his cabin mate Mark giving him a funny look.  
  
"Dude, chill. I just wanted you to know your dad is out front waiting for you. Man, you are so lucky! That car of his is badass. I would kill for all that money! You must be wicked spoiled!"  
  
"Ya," Craig muttered. "Wicked." The feeling of dread began to make him feel slightly nauseous as he realized his father had been waiting outside for him for God knew how long. What if he had been waiting out there for a long time while he just sat there gazing down at his bags and contemplating the end of summer camp? His father would be angry for having wasted his precious time. Frantically he began gathering his things. Slugging his backpack over his shoulders, and grabbed the heavy suitcase with both hands heaved it onto the ground where he could take advantage of the rollers on the bottom of the bag.  
  
With a sigh he gave one last glance at what he had come to think of as his safe haven and dragged the bag behind him into the bright late afternoon sun. He swallowed when he saw his dad leaning with a causal pose up against the black Mercedes convertible. Much to his surprise his dad's face broke into a huge grin.  
  
"Craiger! Hey bud, how was summer camp?"  
  
He almost didn't know how to respond, so great was his relief that he almost doubled over with the joy of it. His father must have just arrived! He hadn't kept him waiting long and the car ride home would be filled with tales of his summer adventure and not icy silence and hot angry stares.  
  
He smiled at his father and leapt into his enthusiastic tales of boyhood summer. "It was great dad! I can't wait to show you the pictures I took from our hikes. And my team actually won the basketball tournament! There were a total of nine teams!"  
  
His father laughed, "That's great Craiger but let's get your stuff in the trunk and get going. I have to be at work early tomorrow so I'd like to get going as early as possible. You can tell me all about it on the way home."  
  
Craig hastily took off his backpack and shoved it in the trunk. While his dad rearranged the bags to his liking, Craig plopped down in front seat and fastened his seatbelt. A moment later his dad climbed in next to him and gave him a smile. "It will be good to have you back home, Craiger. I've missed our evenings together."  
  
Despite himself Craig felt his pulse leap and his thoughts fill with hope. Maybe this was what his dad needed, a summer away from his son to chill out and relax. Maybe things would be different from now on.  
  
"Me too, dad. I'm glad I'm going home." He smiled up at his father and took one last look around the camp, his mind photographing the scenery around him. This was a good moment, one he wouldn't forget.  
  
"Mr. Manning?" Craig's thoughts were startled by a quiet female voice. 'Oh God, he thought what does she want?  
  
"Mr. Manning. I'm Denise Watson the nurse for the boy's camp. I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time."  
  
Craig glanced uneasily at his father to measure his reactions. The only indication that Albert had any sort of reaction was the knuckles on the steering wheel whitening.  
  
"Actually," he said pleasantly, "I'm in a bit of a hurry."  
  
"I understand that sir, but this will only take a minute of your time."  
  
God, what in the hell is she doing? Craig thought in a panic. Don't ruin this, don't ruin this. His heart began to pound faster and he wiped his palms on his jeans. What did she want? Why was she trying to ruin this perfect moment with his dad?  
  
Albert continued to put off Nurse Watson by waving his left hand at her and with his right leaning over to start the car.  
  
"I'm concerned about your son's bruising, Mr. Manning."  
  
The silence that followed was excruciating. It seemed to Craig that the world had momentarily titled on it's axis and he made a feeble attempt at grabbing the car door. Finally he heard his father's voice ask coldly, "Excuse me?"  
  
Now that his father wasn't going anywhere Nurse Watson launched into her tale. "When your son first arrived here his legs and arms were covered in bruises. I'm very concerned. Is there something wrong at home?  
  
"Are you accusing me of something?"  
  
Craig almost laughed at the ridiculous questioning. Come on, dad of course she's accusing you of something! What do you think she's implying?  
  
"Well I don't know... I mean... How did those bruises happen to get there, sir? There was quite a bit of bruising. Not just one or two."  
  
"Well, Nurse Waters, my son happens to play a lot of sports at home. Wrestling. It causes a lot of rough physical activity, and he can be a bit of a klutz, right Craig?"  
  
Craig, looking startled, glanced from his dad to the nurse. "Umm ya, right. I'm really clumsy. I always run into stuff at home, doorknobs... fall down stairs..." He let out a laugh, surprised at how hollow it sounded. Not like laughter at all. Like tears.  
  
His dad looked at him and when Craig saw his eyes he shut up and managed to smile what he hoped was a reassuring smile to Denise.  
  
"Mr. Manning I don't think..."  
  
"That's right you don't think. I sent my son up here for a good time and now all I'm getting is people trying to accuse me of things. Is this the way you run your camp? Maybe I won't donate any money towards your camp next year if this is the way you treat people."  
  
Craig saw with some detached amusement the nurse's mouth open and close like a baby bird. His father sure knew how to put people in their place. There was nothing like a threat to withdraw donations to the camp's charity fund to shut a person up.  
  
"Now if you'll excuse me like I said I have an early appointment." With that Albert started the car and peeled out leaving a cloud of dust billowing in the startled Nurse Watson's face.  
  
The silence in car seemed to stretch into forever as they drove for hours without speaking a word to each other. Craig could see the tension radiating in waves from his father's body and his grip on the steering wheel was so tight that he was surprised that the bones hadn't split the skin around his knuckles. He wasn't sure how long they had been traveling before his father turned abruptly into a gas station. When the car rolled to a stop and Albert went into the gas station to pay Craig looked out the window to the fast approaching darkness. He could make out his father's figure leaning over the counter to look at the change the cashier was handing him, and for a moment something like depression settled over him. Nothing was ever going to change. The car ride home would continue in silence and when they got home he would have to face the consequences of some fault his dad thought he had caused. Craig found his hand had unconsciously settled on the door handle and longing swept over him. Maybe he should run. He could do it. Just open the door and sprint off into the night like some criminal. But then reality set in, he had no money and soon enough his dad would call the police on him. And besides it was still his dad. The only one he had. With his mother gone his ties to family were few and he needed that connection. If only that connection didn't often result in bruises.

Craig sighed as his fingers slowly let go of the door handle and he settled back down in his seat. If he could just make his father see that he had nothing to do with the nosy interfering nurse maybe he could get away bruise free. It wasn't his fault that the stupid camp two days after he arrived required a uniform to play in the basketball tournament. A uniform of shorts and a tee shirt that showed off the last beating he had received from his dad before he left for camp. The gasps from his classmates still echoed embarrassingly in his ears as he had fumbled to make up excuses about having a run in with a gang and wow you should see the other guy! He had to make his dad see that he had nothing to do with the nosy nurse that had later pulled him aside and told him he could tell the truth that no one was going to hurt him here and he was safe. Angrily he had informed the nurse that he didn't need her help because he wasn't in any danger. That some school bullies had beat him up right before he left for camp. It made him feel ashamed to play the wimp but he had to protect his father. Couldn't rat him out and tell the truth. And even if he was tempted there was Angela to consider. Angela.  
  
Just thinking of her hit him hard in the gut. Like someone had sucker punched him in his solar plexus. He had to go home because at home was Angela. And she needed her older brother to tell her how life worked and to remind her of the great mom the two of them had. And so even if he had really wanted to consider running away it could never be an option because he couldn't leave Angela alone in the world. Craig looked up to see his father approach the car and with him seem to bring the falling darkness of the coming night. He thought maybe he could try to make things right before they arrived home. Before he was alone in an enclosed space with his dad.  
  
"Dad I just wanted you to know that I didn't say-"  
  
"We'll talk when we get home." Abrupt. Cold. And with a sinking feeling Craig knew that what awaited at home was much more then just a talk.


	2. Chapter Two

The house stood under the sky, looming up underneath the canopy trees and dark night. Craig sat in the car staring at what had been his home for the past fourteen years, trying to get up the courage to open the door and come inside. The car pulled to a stop in the long driveway and the engine cut out causing Craig to wince when the beating of his heart seemed to fill the small space of the car. He glanced out of the corner of his eyes to see his dad taking off his seatbelt and opening the car door. Craig followed suit, feeling his pulse leap in protest at the idea. Ignoring it, he shut the car door and walked to the trunk to get his luggage. "Leave it." His dad snapped, breaking the silence. He froze, slowly shuffling his feet up the sidewalk after his dad. The walk up to the front door was eternity and a split second. All too soon the door was being shut behind them and Craig was heading toward the stairs, hoping he could run up to his room before the confrontation started. "Where do you think you're going?" "Umm. Up to my room?"  
"I want to know what you said to that school nurse. I want to know what kind of false trouble you have stirred up."  
"Dad I swear I didn't say anything. They made us wear shorts and a tee shirt. I couldn't help it. The bruises were showing..."  
"What are you trying to say!?"  
"N-Nothing. I'm really sorry dad, but I swear I didn't say anything."  
  
Suddenly his dad reached out and grabbed his arm. Hard. He could feel his fingers digging into the bone and he couldn't help but cry out as tears smarted in his eyes.  
"I don't believe you. You ungrateful little brat! After everything I do for you. You're going off to strangers and telling them our business?"  
"Dad please... Let go of my arm!"  
His father abruptly threw him away and as he as hit the wall with a thud, he found himself losing his balance and crumpling in a heap.  
  
"Go get your suitcase out of the car. I don't even want to look at you right now."  
Craig watched in shock at his father's retreating figure. Watched the shadow of his father eerily large slowly disappearing into his study. Was that all? He hastily scrambled up on his shaky legs and all but ran for the door. Out in the open he breathed in the fresh air and headed for the car still feeling like his mind was in a bit of a haze. His father hadn't hurt him. Not really hurt him. Sure he would have a bruised arm tomorrow but that was nothing in comparison. He opened the trunk and retrieved his luggage rolling the large one up the sidewalk and shouldering his backpack. At the front door entrance he hesitated, wondering if maybe this was some sort of mind game his dad had come up with. Maybe he was really waiting on the other side of the door. Waiting to really hurt him when his guard was down. Slowly his hand curled around the cold shiny doorknob and gave it a twist. The door gave and as it swung open Craig tensed, giving a good look from shadowy corner to shadowy corner. Nothing. Just the quiet. He breathed a sigh of relief and slugged up the stairs to the safe haven of his room. As he closed the door behind him he automatically latched all three of the locks on his doors. Better to be safe then sorry. Dropping the bags on his floor he glanced around the room, taking in his surroundings. It appeared to be the room of a spoiled boy. A brand new computer with flat screen monitor sat on an expensive cherry stained desk. A 32" flat screen TV with DVD player and satellite stood on a huge entertainment system along with an X-Box with all the trimmings. He even had his own private phone line, something most of his friends couldn't claim. To Craig however it was just a memory of a kick, a punch, a slap. Every item of luxury represented a bout of anger with his father. He could remember just before he left the huge argument that had caused all the trouble at camp. He had been protesting with his father about going away.  
"But why can't I stay with Joey and Angela... I'm sure they wouldn't mind."  
"I thought I told you not to bring up that man's name in this house! You are not staying with him, ever and that's final."  
He wasn't sure what possessed him to protest. "But dad!"  
Slam! He hadn't even prepared himself for his father's anger and the next thing he knew he was slammed up against the wall. Losing his footing he fell onto the ground and immediately he curled into a ball trying to protect himself.  
"I don't want to hear that man's name! He was nothing but a damned cheater! Having an affair with your whore of a mother!"  
With each word he spoke he let his foot fly, kicking him in the stomach, the legs, his arms. Craig begged his father to stop. "Please dad! I'm sorry! I'll go to camp, just stop!"  
"Your mother left us, Craig! She broke my heart, abandoned you! What kind of person does that?! Huh? I never did that to you! And this is how you repay me?"  
"Please, dad..." Craig sobbed quietly hoping to disquiet his father's anger.  
"You're going to that camp." His father abruptly walked away, leaving Craig to sob into the carpet.  
He could still feel the carpet on his cheek. The soggy rough material wet with his tears. He must have laid there for at least an hour, dimly hearing his father slam the door while he went to work. He had gingerly lifted himself off the floor, at first crawling a few feet testing his injuries, making sure he could walk. Finally standing up he groaned as his body throbbed all over. Nothing had been broken though, Craig thought back smirking, he was the expert on that. He had crawled up to bed watching the evening sun creep through his blinds. He reached into his nightstand to grab his bottle of extra strength Tylenol. Shaking four into his hand, he took it with the day old water he had left on his stand. He always had a full bottle handy in this house. Lying on his bed, it seemed to take hours until finally the darkness had overtaken him and he fell into a restless troubled sleep.  
The next morning when he had woke up, he had glanced at the alarm clock to check the time. To his surprise it was past noon. His father never let him sleep in past ten, insisting that he was wasting his time and that there was plenty of stuff he could be doing. Slowly he had sat up, taking note on his pain level. He ached all over like he had a bad case of the flu. Wincing he grabbed his bottle of Tylenol and took four more. He was becoming a Tylenol junkie. He stood up and grabbed a loose long sleeved shirt of the softest material possible and a lose pair of pants of a soft expensive cotton. Shrugging into his pants and shirt he slowly undid the locks on his door and cautiously looked around. To his surprise he had heard an unfamiliar voice speaking with his father.  
"Of course, Mr. Manning, I'll get right on it."  
When he walked down the stairs and around the corner he saw a stranger with his father. The man was dressed in clothing that Craig knew under ordinary circumstance his father would never associate with, and so he wondered what was going on.  
"Craiger! Come on down. This is Mr. Bugatony."  
"Uh, it's Bugaton sir."  
Albert forced a smile and nodded. "Right, Mr. Bugaton. Sorry. Mr Bugaton is going to be working on a special project, Craig."  
"Oh, uh okay." He wasn't sure how to respond to this man who obviously knew more then he did at this point.  
"So Craig, I hear you're quite the little photographer?"  
"Um ya I like to shoot."  
Albert had wrapped his arm around his son and Craig had tried not to wince at the bodily contact. "Craiger, I got a big surprise for you. I'm taking the spare bedroom downstairs and turning into a dark room for you! What do you think of that?"  
He had forced a smile. "Wow dad, I don't know what to say."  
Albert laughed. "Well how about a thank you!"  
"Ya dad. Thanks."  
"Now, Mr. Bugaton I want this project finished in a hurry. Craig is leaving for summer camp in a few weeks and I want him to be able to take advantage of his new present. How long do you think it will take to construct this?"  
"Well Mr. Manning, with the amount of money you're paying us, I'd say defiantly by the end of the week the room will be in full gear."  
Craig felt sick to his stomach listening to his dad and the contractor making deals, discussing what type of equipment and light proofing he should be doing to make the room a perfect place for his son who was one day going to be a professional photographer, and how talented he was. His dad always tried to find some way to buy him off, which is why as he looked around his present room he felt no joy at the expensive objects. They never meant anything but the bad relationship he had with his dad. He decided then that standing here wallowing in self pity wasn't doing him any good and picked up his phone to call one of his friends.  
  
"Hello?"  
"Hey Jonathan, it's me."  
"Hey Craig! Whats up? You're back from camp I see."  
"Ya, just got back tonight. Hey what school did you end up at?"  
"My mom is sending me to a private school for boys actually. Saint. Andrews. I'm totally bumming. It sucks dude, she thinks it's a way for me to stay out of trouble. What about you?"  
"Degrassi. I don't know anyone who got stuck going there. Most of the gang got transferred to Williams. You want to hang out?"  
"Sure! I was thinking of calling you but I didn't think you got home for a couple of more days. I got the perfect plan."  
"Uh oh. Sounds like trouble."  
Jonathan laughed. "Seriously man! I got a foolproof way of getting us into Sharkies."  
Craig groaned. "Man, that's what you said the last time and we wasted our entire night standing in line only to get the boot. I ended up going back to your house and got stuck looking at your mom and dad's vacation reels."  
"I know, I know! I said I was sorry! I swear this time it's fullproof! I got the perfect way to get in! Come and meet me at 1st and 9th St."  
Craig sighed, wondering what kind of trouble Jonathan was leading him into now.  
"Craig?"  
"All right, all right, I'll see ya there in thirty minutes."  
"Great! See ya!"  
He listened to the dial tone for a few minutes wondering if he should risk talking to his father. But anything was better then staying in this house, which sometimes seemed like it sucked all the good feelings out of you.  
Slowly he gathered up his camera, which he never left the house with out. You never knew when a good photo op would come around. He crept down the stairs and followed the dim light he saw coming from down the hall where his dad's study was. He hesitated his fist raised to knock on the door. Maybe he should just go? But he knew if he left unannounced it would just further piss his father off. He gathered his courage and firmly knocked on the smooth surface of the wood.  
"Dad?"  
He heard a low grunt from the other side of the door, which he took as 'come in.'  
Slowly he swung the door open to see his father hunched over his computer desk a book open on his lap. One of his medical books, which meant his father, was in the zone. When he got like this it was the easiest time to ask him for favors or requests.  
"Dad, I'm going to go out with Jonathan for a while okay?"  
"Fine. Close the door behind you and keep it quiet."  
Craig softly closed the door behind him and headed out on to the front porch. He looked around him for a moment and felt a wave of disbelief. How could the night seem so calm and peaceful when all he felt was chaos and loneliness? He began to walk the fifteen-minute journey to the bus corner trying to fight off feelings of depression. He couldn't let anyone know how he felt or what was really going on. He was great at putting up fronts. If his dad really knew how things were he would encourage him to go into acting. Or maybe not. Finally he arrived at the transit just in time for the bus to pull up. Climbing aboard and handing the driver his money he hoped for a night to make him forget anything having to do with the reality of his life. 


End file.
